


Stucky Christmas

by GealachGirl



Category: Captain America (Movies)
Genre: 1943 is mentioned, Christmas, Hurt/comfort kind of, M/M, Post-Civil War
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2015-12-25
Updated: 2015-12-25
Packaged: 2018-05-09 09:02:56
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,210
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/5534039
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/GealachGirl/pseuds/GealachGirl
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Steve convinces Bucky to play the piano in an effort to cheer him up and it results in a flashback to 1943.</p>
            </blockquote>





	Stucky Christmas

“What do you want, Steve?” Bucky grumbled from his desk.

“To show you something,” Steve replied, crossing his arms and leaning against the doorjamb. When Bucky didn’t respond, he tilted his head to the side and grinned. “Come on, you’re going to like it.” 

Bucky looked down at the work he was clearly doing and back up at Steve, wondering how he could possibly know that. Most days, _Bucky_ had trouble knowing what he would like. His memories were hazy snapshots of a best friend, a war, and an unlit fire begging to burn. 

The clear ones were hard and metal and tasted like poison and gunpowder.

“I’ll pass, Stevie. Not in the mood.” He turned back to his papers and picked up a pen, twirling it into writing position. 

Strong hands clutched his biceps and pulled at him. “That’s not an option this time, Buck. Come on.” 

It wasn’t enough to actually get him up from his chair, but Bucky realized that going along with Steve would be way easier than what would literally become wrestling with him. He knew from experience. So he went along.

Steve’s grip loosened and his hand migrated down to Bucky’s. 

Steve pulled Bucky through the halls and around a corner. “Where are we going?” Bucky asked plainly. 

“You’ll find out, now don’t ruin a surprise.” Steve’s voice was exasperated, but amused at the same time and Bucky fought the urge to roll his eyes. 

They turned one more corner until they were in a room in Stark Tower that Bucky had never seen before. Directly across from him, in front of floor-to-ceiling windows, sat a black baby grand. He turned to Steve. 

Steve pulled at his hand to get him to move again. He steered him toward the piano and Bucky got a look at the song the music book was open to.

“You want me to play this?” he asked gruffly, turning to face Steve again.

An embarrassed smile broke out and he looked off to the side at the piano. “Well, now that you’ve brought it up…” He looked back at Bucky and lifted his eyebrows.

Bucky rolled his eyes a little and a smile managed to escape as he maneuvered around Steve and the piano bench to sit down in front of the shining keys. 

Now that he was looking at it head-on, Bucky wasn’t even sure he would be able to. It had been so long since he’d done anything productive with his hands, even since his “recovery”. Sitting here, he couldn’t imagine disappointing Steve by pointing it out, so he lifted his hands to the keyboard and tried not to wince about the glint off of his left hand.

The first chord sounded harsh, nothing like how Crosby had done it. Bucky didn’t let it stop him, though. He moved on to the next and stumbled through the first bar as he searched for each note and let it ring while he transitioned to the next one. He got smoother as he played and the music began to resemble the original.

1943 had been a big year. Captain America had been created and he’d stormed into a HYDRA facility to save Bucky. Then came the birth of the Howling Commandos. In a lot of ways, 1943 had been a good year, too with friends and victories all over the place. 

After storming another empty HYDRA facility on the coast of France, they hadn’t had anything else to do and they’d found a functioning radio. They’d fiddled around with it and eventually found an American station. 

“Weeell, would you listen to that?” one of the Commandos had bragged as the station came in clearer. It resulted in a chorus of approval from the soldiers. 

“Is that Bing?” 

“Sounds like!” 

“Oh to have a drink, a girl, and a dance hall.”

“Good luck with that one.”

Bucky had sidled up to Steve and asked quietly. “What do you think, Stevie?”

Steve had turned to him with his blue, blue eyes and said, “Sounds kind of sad to me.”

“Nah. That’s just ‘cause of the key. It’s all about being home, right?” The chorus came back around and Bucky pitched his voice to match it. “’I’ll be home for Christmas. You can count on me,” he let Bing go on without him and lifted his eyebrows at Steve. His face flushed when he noticed how intently Steve was looking at him. “See?”

“Right, but what about this last part?” Bing had just finished singing about it only being in his dreams. 

“That doesn’t have to change anything,” Bucky declared. He had the irrational urge to grab Steve and dance in the empty, crumbling room. It was crazy, but the idea burned in his mind and his skin itched with the desire. By now he was used to the feeling and what it meant. 

Bucky glanced at Steve’s profile and swallowed before he looked away. 

But now…

Steve’s hands slid down his chest from behind and Bucky felt the pressure of his chin on the top of his head. He kept playing—he must have gone through the song at least four times by now—but a smile tugged, insistent, at his mouth.

He realized with only a little start, that this had been the first happy memory he’d had in a long time. Most days he had to fight for them if he could find them at all, and then he would have to claw through the fog to pull a clear picture out. 

This one was effortless.

“Where’d you go?” Steve asked, voice muffled by Bucky’s hair.

“Just memories,” he replied, starting the introduction again. 

He could visualize the frown on Steve’s face mere seconds before Steve stopped him and spun him around. Bucky let him do it and looked calmly up into Steve’s blue eyes.

“They weren’t bad ones this time. You remember ’43 and hearing Bing singing this on the radio?”

A crease formed between Steve’s eyebrows and his gaze unfocused a bit. Bucky waited, absently rubbing Steve’s knuckles where his hand rested in Bucky’s. 

“Wow,” Bucky looked up to see a smile developing on Steve’s face. “I do now. Ha.” He was grinning. “I knew there was a reason I wanted you to play this.”

Bucky mirrored Steve’s smile on a smaller scale. “You were right. I do like this.”

“I just found this room and I thought of how you haven’t played in so long. I took a chance.”

“Thank you. I mean it.” 

Steve beamed at him and leaned down. Bucky tilted his head back to meet him and hummed happily. This fire was one of the better parts of his recovery.

“You should play the song just before this one, too,” Steve told him when they parted. 

Bucky twisted around to look at the music stand and turned back a page. “Now I’m doing Judy Garland?” he asked, already preparing to play. 

“Merry Christmas, Buck.”

“You too, Stevie.”

This didn’t fix everything—couldn’t—and it was probably going to be hard more days than not, but Bucky knew he could get through it. For now at least he could play “Have Yourself a Merry Little Christmas” and enjoy the warmth of Steve behind him.

**Author's Note:**

> My roommate made me do it. I texted her about Stucky feelings related to me playing "I'll Be Home For Christmas" and joked about writing a fic. She responded with Shia Labeouf.


End file.
